Lord of the Shades
by Soleil Artemis Lumiere
Summary: Noah was at the edge of breaking down. She believed her life was a living hell and she's determined to end it. She'd not fail again this time. But a stranger whose looks matched even the sun god; came and interfered her attempt.
1. Chapter 1

THE COURT OF THE GODS

The gods of Olympus always held a meeting on summer and winter solstice; that was common. However, that one grey fall day, the mighty Zeus himself had ordered for a trial to be held in the assembly hall of his palace. This was the most unusual. The Lord of the Sky especially summoned for a trial, not just a meeting; in the most unusual timing, too.

The gods' memory had extended further than the creation of men. However, there had not been one occasion where all gods assembled out of the regular meeting event for more than mere socializing among each other.

Everyone wondered. Who might have done a sin so wretched and damnable that a trial of the gods should be held? What exactly was that particular sin?

The first to enter the majestic hall was Dionysus, the god of wine, leisure, and festivities. His posture was cherubic, almost child-like. His silver curls were crowned with entangled vines, symbolizing his power over all that grew above the ground. His expression was the colour of boredom. Being a god with playful manner, Dionysus had never been fond of such formal assembly. He immediately take his seat on the right corner of the U-shaped arrangement; his finger tapping the ebony of the seat handle as if counting the seconds till he could flee the room and return to all parties that had wished for his blessing to bring joy into them.

The second was Hermes, god of mischief and ambassadors. He assumed the form of a small, agile young man. Covering his head was his prized winged helmet Petasus, and in his right hand was the famous Caduceus: golden winged wand that united all being divided by hate; entwined with the slick figure of two snakes. His mischievous nature abhorred such trial almost as much as Dionysus did. However, his curiosity took over him. Hermes, being the messenger of all gods, knew everything that was going on among them. He hated not knowing anything such as whatever horrible incident that had made Zeus called upon a trial.

Then entered the god of fire and craftsmen, Hephaestus, followed by his unwilling wife, Aphrodite, the goddess of love. The view of them together had always been dramatically contrasted as ever. Hephaestus was a big, brute man. His hands were calloused for hard work at his forge. His face was disfigured for his infamous fall from Olympus. His expression had never been pleasant; excruciatingly displayed the pain and hardship he had endured through his immortal life.

On the contrary, as Hephaestus was the very image of harshness, Aphrodite was beauty herself. Her fair hair was elegantly spread like curtain of golden silk. Her creamy skin was smooth and soft and that way it would remain forever for it would never have to do the merest work or touch the merest roughness. Her features were carved to perfection. Her blue eyes were the most valuable of jewels. Her smile was mesmerizing. Did they know that smile was a mere façade of the awkwardness at the company of her husband?

The next to enter were the marvellous god of the sun and goddess of the moon; the twins Apollo and Artemis. Except for their hair, the two were perfect replica of each other. Same silvery liquid eyes, same pale yet glowing complexion, same astounding beauty. Apollo's golden locks gloriously curled over his head, bright as the sunshine itself. Artemis's was straight, smooth, and dark as the night herself. Even so, however similar their physical features were, there had not been any two personalities more distinct yet in harmony with each other.

Artemis was a silent soul that faced life with great solemnity. Every moment was sacred to her and not a second would ever be wasted for naught. She took every matter seriously, which made her character rather stiff, but her cold-headed, reasonable way of thinking will settle every problem that came forth. Her brother was far more cheerful and less reasonable. He saw only the bright side of everything and hardly ever considered the severity of problems that came towards him. He took on matters at ease and acted upon it playfully without any pressure. Nothing could ever bind him forever. However careless he may seem, he was still the god of prophecy, his knowledge of the future led him to act appropriately when needed. But his other knowledge that the future was always shifting was the thing that made him such an optimistic and adorable person as he was.

However, that time, Apollo didn't look like himself. His face was overcast by grave sadness, for he knew all about that day's ordeal, about the reason the gods were together. It hadn't been a pleasant circumstance. In fact, it was such a horrid circumstance that even the gay god of sun was overcome in grief and could not bear to tell anyone else about that matter, not even his twin and soul mate.

After Apollo and Artemis, the goddess of wisdom entered the room with all of her glory and splendour. Athena's battle armour clanked as she stepped into the room. Never had she forgotten her sacred Aegis shield. The Gorgon's head was engraved in the shield, striking terror to all who set eyes upon it. Unlike other goddesses who reflected beauty, Athena's complexion reflected strength. Her silver hair was cropped short. Her expression was flat and stern; picturing the sternness and neutrality of her soul which was partial to nothing. Her lack of partiality was what she depended on making her objective judgements. She let no emotion got in her way. No matter what was going to happen that fateful day, she was determined not to let anything disturb her clear mind.

Henceforth, came Ares, the god of war. If Athena had come with utter calmness, Ares came in rage. How he hated having to be there among the other gods! Not once had Ares ever felt accepted in their company. His virile handsome face was way too flustered in anguish to be appreciated properly. His blazing red hair was as red as his emotion. Almost all of the gods resented him for his rash attitude. Zeus had candidly expressed his dislike of him. Athena did everything she could to oppose him. The only one who had wilfully been there for him was Aphrodite, but his bitterness led him to believe it was no more than passing fancy and temporary consolation from her boring husband. Ares didn't care the least about the trial, it's not like anyone would give a damn to a thing he said. Yet he had to be there for Zeus had commanded so; and what the Lord of the Sky wanted, that's exactly what he'd get.

Then there was Demeter, goddess of fertility. Her elderly, gentle face was full with motherly compassion. Her soul was one that nurtured. The trial made her gentle heart restless. Which poor soul was going to be victim of the wrath of the gods? That she would not wish to befall upon her worst enemies.

Soon, Poseidon, the mighty god of the sea, graced everyone with his presence. His physique was that of a mature man. His skin was tanned and his straw-blond hair smelled like the ocean. In his hand was his weapon and treasure, the trident. He loathed to be kept so far apart from his home under the sea, but he had to be there when duty called. He was curious as everyone about the case, but he wished nothing more than being able to return to his own realm where he felt most powerful. Being at mercy in the his brother's realm had always put Poseidon in uneasiness.

Not long, everyone's attention was distracted to the open gate of the assembly hall. Two brightly glowing figures gracefully entered. It was the Lord of the Sky himself and his always jealous wife, Hera, the goddess of marital bliss. Hera was all a woman wished to be; gentle, motherly affectionate, beautiful, and flawless. Yet her mere presence had always been intimidating and her cautiousness often led her to irritate her callers. Zeus himself was as mighty as ever. His mere presence brought the feeling of the presence of supreme power. His facial features were strikingly identical to Poseidon's. However, the sea god didn't look as much strained or stern as Zeus's. Poseidon, however anxious, still looked quite relaxed. However, strain, pressure, supreme power and fear of losing that power was the only things written in Zeus's face. Or had there been some thing more? Had there been something more like… sinister victory?

The gods who had been talking among themselves; either speculating about the trial or talking about how they wished they could return to where they were before; all were silenced at Zeus's presence. He needed not to do a single thing to get their full attention. Distracted as they may be, all gods were eager to start the trial as much as they were eager it was done in a flash.

"My fellow gods," Zeus spoke, "As we have known, we are here to hold a godly trial of a sinner who had crossed the rules we had held on to for centuries."

"What was this case exactly, brother?" asked Poseidon.

"First, let's invite the condemned we ought to judge in this trial," Zeus continued, "Bring him in!"

The Furies, the torturers that belonged to the Underworld, walked into the assembly hall. They were leading a chained figure covered thoroughly in black cloth.

"Expose him," Zeus commanded.

The black cloth was pulled down and formed a pool around the sinner's feet. Then, the figure's glorious body, yet covered in scars and blood, was bare to the gods' curiosity. All of them intently study his features and found themselves caught in surprise and horror. They saw black, silken hair wildly flowing to the floor, and though pale like a corpse, a face that was a spitting image of Zeus and Poseidon's.


	2. Chapter 2

2. AN IMMORTAL

Noah despised school. Such institution brought no advantage and only added more misery and trouble to life. God, even life was useless. What's the use? You lived, wasted your parents' money, studied, worked, got married, had children, grew old, died. We're born only to die in the end. Everything we'd worked so hard for held no meaning. Everything would be lost. Some people might be lucky enough to leave their names and be cherished after their death, but then these people were no longer alive. They didn't have a chance to enjoy their fame for they'd left the world for good.

Noah wished she could just die. She didn't need all the sadness waiting ahead. She didn't want to let another second went wasted. She was just crowding the already overcrowded world after all. There's nothing she could contribute for the world or its inhabitancies. Oh, she did make a good punch bag for those nasty jocks and sluttish cheerleaders. Not literally, but it's very obvious that they liked to kill their spare time or try to forget how desperate they were by bullying her. Let it be just painting mocking graffiti on her locker or burning all her books.

Noah was sure no one would miss her either. Her uncle might have raised her, fed her, bought her things she didn't need, but he didn't care a whit about her. He's too full of himself and his money. Noah had no friends. Since she was marked an outcast and other names she'd rather not mention by the popular kids, no one would talk to her in the least friendly manner. Noah also knew, she was just a burden and disgrace to everyone else.

Noah really would rather just vanish into the air. Like it would make any difference to anyone.

Noah reluctantly walked down the school corridor. No matter how much she hated it, she still had to attend. She didn't want anyone at home to know how miserable she was. No one needed to know.

As she was walking, a cup of diet yoghurt landed on her silky black hair.

"Here comes the bloody wrist-scratcher!" a familiar nasty voice addressed Noah. She needed not to look up to know whose voice it was. Why, it's only one of her tormentors, "Are you going to scratch your wrist to death again? You'd better do a better job this time!"

All of the popular kids who had gathered to watch Noah's humiliation laughed real hard. How she hated the very sound of laughter! It's as if everyone could be happy but herself.

Noah glared at them. There reaction was remarking in mockery, "Oh! Stop it! Let's not mess around the scratcher or she'd slash our wrists and kill us!"

"I doubt it's possible! She can't even kill herself properly!"

"Yeah, it's a shame that you survived, you know! We could have done better if you had succeeded. If only you weren't so useless!"

"Hey, wrist-scratcher, you want me to teach you the RIGHT way of slashing your artery?"

Noah had attempted suicide before. It didn't even hurt, only bleed. But then somebody found her and dragged her to the hospital at once. It was entirely that janitor's fault. If he hadn't barged in and interfered, Noah would have been peaceful in her grave right now. No need to go to school, no need to face the humiliation she had been bearing for years, no need to worry about tomorrow…

Noah ran as fast as she could, hoping the laughter that haunted her sickly mind would be lost. She ran to the empty bathroom and cried her heart out.

Her nightmare started when she was a freshman. A handsome senior in the football club asked her out. She was so charmed and flattered. She said yes. That week was like a fairytale to Noah, but all those sweet dreams shattered into million pieces when she found their photo when making out displayed on the board magazine. She felt so ashamed. She went to seek that boy immediately. She found him hanging with other popular kids, all were laughing at her.

Noah could still recall the words he had said back then, "Look, the slut's here. Wanna take turns?"

She bore all humiliations for almost a year. Her friends had left her. They might have felt sympathy, but no one would ever go against the popular kids there. To other students, they were rules and figures to worship. The one they had condemned would be condemned by all. Noah did her best to bear all means done to make her life miserable, but she had reached her limit.

She tried to take her own life, to take her only bliss with her own hand.

She failed.

The day she was let out of the hospital, her nickname had changed into the bloody wrist-scratcher.

This time Noah swore she wouldn't fail. She would not let a thing rob her from the only thing she had ever wished for; the embrace of death.

This time Noah would strike herself at the heart. It would be faster and more effective. There might be more pain, but she had felt nothing when the sharp blade had cut her wrist. Maybe this time she would feel nothing too. Even though there was pain, it wouldn't be for long.

Noah looked at herself in the mirror. It's not like she wasn't pretty. In fact, she might have been the most beautiful girl at school. Her almost paper white skin was too pale, yet exotic in her own way. Her pitch black, perfectly straight hair was the hair every girl would die for. Her figure swelled at all the right places without having to stuck a finger into her throat. Only her eyes were red due to too much crying. Gray shades below her eyes were contrast to her pale skin; must have been lack of comfortable sleep. And her face displayed nothing but sadness.

Sure of her plan, Noah went to homeroom with lighter heart. How nice it felt to know that there wouldn't be another day to face!

During the homeroom, a new student was introduced. He took the class by surprise and impress them all, except Noah, of course. She couldn't care less. With his looks, he would be one of the jocks in no time. Noah thanked God for not having to live another day just to see such beauty wasting his time to make other people's life miserable.

But Edgar Stevenson's appearance really was extraordinary. It's as if he filled and brightened the whole room by just standing still. From his golden brown skin to his golden curls, everything about him was simply perfect. And what a glorious smile! Everyone was dying to get to know him, but they backed off once the popular kids joined, eager to make Stevenson become one of them as soon as possible. He hardly responded to them, though. Edgar Stevenson only smiled and kindly begged them to get lost.

Noah went through the rest of the day like nothing had changed, but she felt unusually uncomfortable. It was as if she was being watched. Once the bell rang, signing the end of the day, Noah went straight home, ready to execute her plan.

Noah ran into her room, locked the door and all windows, drew the curtain, and turned off the light. It wasn't completely dark inside; there were still a ray of light leaking through the drawn curtain. Noah reached for her pocket knife with her right hand while her left hand was crossed over her heart, feeling its last beats. She pulled the knife closer and closer; her senses anticipating pain while her soul anticipating eternal bliss of a wish fulfilled.

Noah could feel the knife slowly penetrating into her skin. Blood started drenching her hand, yet she still felt nothing. No pain, no feeling of her soul living her body, no nothing. Had she died? Had it been THAT easy all along?

Then, Noah heard a voice. It wasn't the nasty voice of mockery. It was far from it. It was a masculine voice, yet gentle and smooth as honey. It was saying, "There's no use trying to kill yourself."

Whose voice was it? Could it be just her pre-death hallucination? Or could it be a small part of her own conscience she had suppressed for so long, crying out only when it was too late?

Noah forced her eyelids to open. She found her room far brighter than it was supposed to be. And right before her was the glowing, magnificent figure of Edgar Stevenson.

"There's no use trying to kill yourself, Noah, for you are an immortal."


	3. Chapter 3

3. SHADE OF THE DECEASED

"H-How did you get here?" Noah exclaimed on impulse. She was startled. She was sure she had locked all doors and windows. How did Edgar Stevenson, the new guy at school whom she never even talked to, suddenly appeared in her bedroom?

The fair-haired young man only smirked, "I can be anywhere I want to be. Well, ALMOST anywhere, actually.)

He walked closer towards Noah. He radiated such soothing eerie warmth that filled the large, cold room. Noah didn't like it. She liked to be in the dark. The chill sheltered her. The light and warmth seemed to strip her from her protection.

"Don't come closer! Go away!"

Edgar did not heed Noah's warning. Did he not get the message the he wasn't wanted there? He kept on walking. His palm was raised right before the bleeding, yet painless wound on Noah's chest. Suddenly, Noah felt as if she was on fire. Her chest was burning like the inside of the chasms in the bowels of hell. She wanted to jerk away as far as she could and escape the torturing heat. She could not. It's as if her body was chained to the floor. She couldn't even move a single finger.

"G-go away I tell you! I don't care how you can even get here, but please leave me alone!" Noah cried.

She almost believed that the man before him was perfect in every way, yet deaf. Yes, he must have been deaf. Noah had been commanding him, even pleading him, to go away. But he didn't react at all. All he did was standing there and put on a smile.

Edgar Stevenson finally put her hand down. The burning pain started to leave Noah's wound little by little. As the wound chilled down, the bleeding stopped and the torn skin miraculously started to close. The hole where the pocket knife had stabbed her was shrinking. As the fire was completely gone, it was as if Noah had never stabbed herself. It was healed completely, without leaving a single scar.

"There, it's healed! You still won't die even though I left it as it is, but too much blood loss can weaken even a god," Edgar replied cheerfully, like he hadn't just stopped a suicide attempt and did something so weird and out of logic.

Noah was released from the petrified state. Finally able to move, she jumped to the far end of the room beside the door, "W-what the hell did you do just now? W-what are YOU?"

"What am I? I'm just like you," he said it so easily like it's a common knowledge everyone must know.

"W-what are you talking about? Suddenly appearing out of nowhere like that… And the thing you did just now!" Noah was stuttering as she spoke. She was nervous. And scared. Yes, Noah was scared. Edgar Stevenson could not be just an ordinary person. What he did with Noah's wound was not natural, and those lights and heat… He could be an alien! Faced to such extraordinary case, Noah's imagination ran wild. It's been long since Noah could imagine anything beside about numerous ways she could do to murder all those popular kids who had been turning her life into a living hell. And what did he mean with his first sentence? Noah? An immortal?

"You are too ignorant on this subject, Noah," Edgar said, "But it's just the way it's supposed to be, isn't it?

"I don't know how to begin. This façade of Edgar Stevenson, a transform student, is just my human disguise. I'm Apollo, the god of sun and prophecy."

"A-Apollo? But… but… he's a myth!"

Edgar Stevenson—or Apollo, so he called himself, frowned, "My, you hurt my feelings, dear. I'm saying nothing but the absolute truth. I'm a god, just like you are a goddess."

_Me, a goddess?_ Noah talked to herself. This guy must be a psycho! He might even be a runaway from an asylum!

"Nonsense! Just go away, return to wherever you come from! I don't even know you! Stop bugging me with your trash talk!"

The so-called sun god smiled sadly this time. His face showed sympathy, "I know it is not easy for you to believe since you have resided in human realm for too long, but it's true. You are a very young goddess, while I've been here ever since the beginning of man development. And I know all that is to come in the future. I know you are one of us; a goddess."

"Lie! I can't believe you!"

"Cannot or will not?"

"Both! I can't believe you and will NEVER believe you!"

"Which part can you not believe? Me being the sun god and you being a goddess?"

"Both, either, whatever! All of them are shit!"

"I lied about nothing, child, you ARE a goddess. You are the immortal daughter of Hades and Persephone, the King and Queen of the Underworld. You just haven't known your power yet. But now that you are aware of your true self, your power will start to seeking its way out. As for me being the sun god, didn't you just see and experience MY miracle?"

"Miracle my ass!" Noah cursed, "I don't want your bloody miracle! I want to die! That's all I ever wish for!"

Apollo looked grave and went silent. His light was getting dimmer and dimmer. It concentrated around his body, "Poor Noah. The only thing you wished for was the only thing that you could not have. You are immortal. You will never die only by a junk metal forged by an ordinary human. You might not believe it just now for you have not realized your power. But now that you are aware of your true self, you power will come seeking you. You'll understand everything eventually."

"But—" Noah seemed to still have more things to say, but Apollo would not let her, "—but you had better not take too long. Our time is fixed, and we don't have forever.

"I will not trouble you further with my information. Take a rest and think on my words. Farewell."

With that, the sun god disappeared into thin air as fast as he had appeared.

When Noah woke up, the first thing she saw was not the carvings of the canopy of her bed as it had always been in every other morning. It was the translucent face of her deceased aunt, glowing in the air.

Noah was taken aback.

She had not attempted another suicide the night before. It's not like she had given the thought up. She just decided to give more consideration to Edgar Stevenson. All that had happened that time was unnatural. It could not be dream. If it was, Noah would have been dead, but she still could feel her breath. If it was a dream, at least there would be a big hole on her heart. But no, there was not a single trace of her chest had ever been stabbed. The burning pain Edgar Stevenson had caused—the burning pain she believed he had caused—had been real. And there could not be any logical explanation about that. Then, there was his version of explanation; that he was Apollo, the sun god in Greek mythology, and that Noah could not die for she was the daughter of Hades and Persephone, King and Queen of the Underworld.

He said he was the sun god while Noah was the princess from hell.

Putting Edgar's words aside, Noah had more to worry at that moment, like the 'ghost' of her Aunt Aggie floating above her; the liquid eyes staring right into hers.

"…Aunt Aggie?"

"Noah? You can see me, Noah darling? I'm soooo glad!" the transparent figure tried to hug Noah in her excitement, but she just passed through Noah's body, unable to touch her, "Oops, sorry! I was just overexcited! No one has ever seen me for ten years of my ghosthood!"

"Aunt Aggie? But… but you've been dead for years! How could you—"

"I have been lingering in this house all the time; you just didn't realize it, my sweet niece! I've been watching over you and your stupid uncle! Both of you disappoint me! Noah, how could you turn into such an emo girl? And old Bert was turning into such a stupid miser!"

"I-I…"

"I know you are confused, my dear," the ghostly face of Aunt Aggie formed a motherly smile, "Remember the handsome boy who was here yesterday? This is your power; to communicate with the shades of the deceased. You couldn't do it until now because you did not have the slightest clue of what you really are."

"But—"

"There are more to come, I'm sure. Don't let this knowledge overcome you. There are more surprises to come."

"You mean… I'm REALLY a goddess or something like that?"

Aunt Aggie only smirks.

Noah's mind flew back to ten years ago when Aunt Aggie were still among them in flesh. They had been happy together; just her, Aunt Aggie, and Uncle Bert. They might not be her real parents, but they had been far better than any parent any kid could have. Aunt Aggie had always been the cheerful sort. And back then, Uncle Bert hadn't been such a cold man as he was now. He was as silent as always, but he used to smile more and act like such a family man. Ever since Aunt Aggie's death, he was so occupied with his business. Maybe he had not meant to be cold. Maybe he was just trying to forget his pain…

"Well, actually I should not be hanging around here. I ought to have 'moved on' as they call it," Aunt Aggie said.

"Move on? Is it like going to heaven or something?"

"I don't know. But at least when a ghost move one, she doesn't have to be a ghost anymore. Which is actually nice, although I might don't get to see you as much as I do now…," Aunt Aggie suddenly looked sad. Floating around as an invisible ghost could not be much fun. There was no one to talk to and there was nothing to do. It must have been real boring.

Noah forgot all about her own frustration for that one moment. She was overjoyed to see her dearest aunt after all those years. If Aunt Aggie had not died, or if she had been able to communicate with her spirit all the time, she would not end up that miserable; maybe she could have done better. Maybe…

"Aunt Aggie, why haven't you 'moved on' then?"

"I don't know. Us restless spirits are supposed to have like an 'unfinished business' with the living and we won't be able to move on until it is resolved. I don't even know what my unfinished business it," Aunt Aggie shook her head, "By the way, isn't it high time for you to get ready for school?"

Right, school. That horrible institution was still standing straight and strong.

"I don't want to go to school."

"But you have to, darling! There's so much of the world that you have not seen. The school is always the best place to start!"

Noah could only wish she could be as positive as her aunt.


	4. Chapter 4

3. QUEST FOR AN ANSWER

The sun had just set and the silver full moon was about to rise. The purple twilight sky was turning darker and darker and twinkling diamonds started peeking from behind the fluffy greenish grey cloud.

The park was dark but for a few lamp lights and one man sitting on the park bench. He had always been emitting golden rays—a symbol of magnificence—and he concealed it most of the time so he would not be conspicuous. However, that night, he radiated his light and warmth even more intense, as if calling out, "I'm here."

Out of the darkness, a slender curvaceous figure of a young woman appeared and walked into the scene. She was everything that was graceful. Her pale skin was silvery glow in the moonlight. The black silky strand that was her hair fell beautifully to her feet.

"You're late, sister," Apollo greeted the goddess who had just came towards him.

"I have to accomplish my task, brother," Artemis replied coldly, "Unlike a certain someone who slacks off all the time."

The sun god made a boyish grin, "Responsible as ever, aren't you? You need not to be so candid. Why did you call me anyway?"

"I don't need your platitude. Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm going to say," Artemis replied, "You are the god of oracles, not I."

Apollo shook her head. His golden curls swung back and forth as he did so, "The future is not unchangeable, sister. The vision I foresee is mere prediction."

"I want to talk about that girl."

"Which girl do you mean exactly?"

"You know which girl exactly. You know more than everyone else, yet you really like to play dumb."

"Knowing too much makes one hesitate, sister. Pray, tell me who you are talking about as to satisfy my need for assurance," Apollo smiled. His eyes twinkled even more prettily than the stars above.

Artemis could only sigh. She wondered silently, what had she done to have such a troublesome twin? "That girl. The Lord of the Shades' daughter.

"You are stepping too far. No one has alerted Father yet, but he will be very mad if he finds out that you talked to that girl about her origin. You even go as far as disguising yourself among the mortals!"

"I don't see anything wrong about it, sister. She has the right to know."

"You can get into as many troubles as you like for all I care, brother, but _this._ If Father finds out, I shall not be able to come to your aid," Artemis hissed.

Apollo's head sank low. He dropped his eyelids for one fleeting moment, then he raised his face to meet Artemis's gaze, "I hate to trouble you even more, sister, but I know what I am doing, and I shall need your assistance when the time comes"

"You are asking too much, Apollo. No one can stand up against Father's wrath. Both of us were present when he made our uncle bow before him and forfeit his realm to Father; a realm Father had cheated him to bear with!"

Apollo blazed as if trying to free his sister from her fear of the future, "You said yourself that I knew better than anyone else. Can you not believe in me on this matter? We shall overcome, sister; you, I, and that girl. We shall overcome everything that comes towards us."

Artemis stepped back and shook her head rapidly, "I really cannot understand you, Apollo! You told me the future was always shifting. You told me you had doubts in your vision. How could you so sure we will get through with plotting against the ruler of the universe? Is it wrong for me to be unsure of what's to come? Is it wrong for me to doubt the future, to doubt what you foresee?"

"Save your prejudice, Artemis. I have never talked about plotting against the ruler."

"What else are you talking about, then? For Olympus's sake, stop talking in riddles!"

"The time has yet to come for me to elaborate, sister. And I know better than hesitating in this one vision, for I see you and myself and I shall make sure we do the right thing to make it real."

Artemis could never make out where her brother's confidence and easy-going nature sprouted from. Even when talking about such a serious matter, his smile was still child-like—sweet, innocent, and without pressure. The moon goddess often wondered what would become of her if she had been the one who was granted the gift of prophecy. If there was one thing she was sure of, then it was that she might would never be able to smile again after knowing the fate of the world.

"Do what you see fit, brother," Artemis turned away. Her gaze was cast upon the silvery ball that was the moon, "I have a chariot to pull.

"Act wise. That is all I can advise, although I am pretty sure you would just do the otherwise."

"Trust me, sister."

"Farewell, my brother," with that, Artemis's body rose into the sky and vanished into the air.

The first thing Noah did when she arrived at school was looking for the newbie, Edgar Stevenson. She had many questions and zero answer. He was the only person who could fill her in with what she needed to know.

Noah looked everywhere, but Edgar Stevenson was nowhere to be seen. Although she could not find what she was looking for, her other discovery took her aback just fine. She almost believed that she really was the princess from hell. She saw them again. Spirits of the dead were lurking around the school. Those translucent figures were everywhere; down the corridors, in the canteen, in classrooms… To Noah's eyes, it's as if the school population has doubled. She was too surprised to pay attention to mockery thrown at her. Someday, when those losers passed away, Noah could just laughed at them as they floated around in misery.

Noah went to the rest room. She needed a splash of cold water. The sight was too overwhelming. Not all spirits were cheerful like Aunt Aggie; it was mostly the other way around. The majority of the ghosts were lamenting in their miserable condition, drifting between to realms. They were no longer alive, but they couldn't proceed to where they were supposed to be and stay invisible among the living.

Crystal drops of clear water were dripping down Noah's face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. She smirked. If she were less solid, she could have passed as a ghost herself. She looked quite—dead. Her skin was white; not creamy pale white, but paper white. The patch of skin under her eyes was stained with black—too much crying and lack of sleep, she supposed.

"The suitable appearance of the Princess of the Dead," Noah whispered to herself.

The next thing she saw took her aback. At such condition, she believed she ought to scream, but she was way too shocked to let out a single sound. A figure—a BOY figure, in the Ladies, no less!—materialized behind her. The figure reminded her of punk rocker; spiky hair, smoky eyes, piercings, black T-shirt, and black leather tights.

The figure was grinning mischievously. Noah almost believed he was grinning at her.

Noah turned back and faced the transparent fellow—another ghost, undoubtedly. Noah was still petrified on the spot. Her vocal cord would not vibrate, so the ghost decided to start.

"What are you staring at?" asked the ghost. Silenced passed between them for one or two seconds. Then the soul of the dead punk rocker burst into loud roar of laughter.

"Gosh! Of course you won't answer! You can't even see me!" the ghost did not stop laughing. It only made Noah gaped even wider. Her gaze would not budge from the ghost's laughing sea-green eyes. Those eyes were supposed to be dead, maybe they have died for so long, yet they were the liveliest pair of eyes Noah had ever seen.

The ghost must have been confused by Noah's unalterable gaze since he looked behind him, maybe to see if something was weird back there that Noah was staring so intensely. He was positive there was nothing behind him. He looked back at Noah; his laughter had ceased. He solemnly asked the girl in front of her, "Can you see me?"

"Yes," Noah replied, "And you should not be here. It's ladies room."

"I died here you know. It's an excellent excuse!"

"B-but peeking is a crime!" Noah made her stand.

"Why the hell can you see me anyway?" the ghost asked curiously.

_According to someone, it's because someone told me I'm the daughter of Hades_, "How should I know?"

"Something must be wrong! I've seen you for years and you NEVER showed a hint that you could see us!" the dead rocker snapped.

"Y-you spy on me?" Noah staggered.

"O-of course not!" the ghost denied, "Who are you anyway? You're so full of yourself for a suicidal freak—"

That was when Noah stormed out of the ladies'.

"H-hey! Wait! I'm sorry! Wait!" the ghost flew down the hallway after Noah, "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it. Well, you ARE suicidal, but—"

"Go away," Noah hissed in low voice.

"Come on! I just want to talk! I've told you I'm sorry!" the ghost insisted.

Noah stopped and faced the ghost head on, "And I've made myself clear. GET LOST!" she yelled in the middle of the crowd.

The once noisy hallway went silent for a moment. The next second, it was roaring with laughter.

"Now our favourite wrist-scratcher has gone nuts! Poor her! Wait, hasn't she been crazy since birth? It must be a genetic disease!"

"Stay away from her! She might transmit her lunacy!"

Were the dead punk rocker alive, Noah would have murdered him on the spot. He was lucky he was dead for good.

Noah ran away; ran from the insolent peeking ghost, ran from the mocking laughter, ran from those she called devils, ran from everything. She didn't care where she ran to. She just ran and ran.

The dead punk rocker dematerialized behind her. Noah did not care. She kept running and running. The laughter and humiliation were still following her. She did not let it stop her.

Noah ran and ran until she stumbled on a graceful wide chest that belonged to Edgar Stevenson.

He was burning.

Noah backed away. She might have been looking for the so-called sun god, but this very moment, she only wanted to be alone, far away from anyone else. Definitely far away from the choking warmth that followed him everywhere.

Edgar Stevenson grabbed her left scarred wrist. His grasp burnt as his whole body. Noah tried to pull away, but the sun god would not let her, "You were looking for me, weren't you? Have you thought of what I told you yesterday?"

Noah would not answer him, "Why wouldn't anyone leave me alone?"

"You're not having fun, aren't you? Nothing is going to change if you just stay here and sulk. We, the immortals, don't belong here. YOU don't belong here."

"Then take me to where I belong! Heaven, hell, the Underworld, whatever! I don't care! Just take me away from all this!"


	5. Chapter 5

5. A DEAL

The sky cracked open and shot fierce lightning bolt after bolt mercilessly. The rain was slamming the ground hard in rapid yet inharmonious rhythm. The greenish black storm cloud shaded the dark night sky. It was a new moon night, so the night was completely dark but for the city lights and occasional flash of thunder.

Zeus was furious.

He was standing alone in his grand assembly hall in Olympus. He put on all of his godly galore; magnificent, yet threatening. His sole presence filled the hall and the sky beneath. Anger darkened his electric blue beads that were his eyes. The raging storm that engulfed the world that night wasn't just another storm. That storm reflected the foul emotion stirring in his soul. His posture was tense. The fury seemed to have made him shake slightly.

A small figure came rushing to Zeus's side and knelt beside him. The wings on Hermes's helmet were fluttering. He bowed his head so deeply it almost touched his knee, not daring to look the Lord of the Sky in the face, at least not in such condition. Zeus didn't lose his temper easily; it's a fatal flaw for a god. Whenever one of the immortals lost hold of one's emotion, the nature would shake in response. However, tonight, the storm might destroy the world below, but Zeus didn't care. Someone had dared mess with his perfect scheme. He'd make sure this particular someone know the consequences of invoking the wrath of the Lord of the Sky.

"Hermes at your service, my Lord," uttered the kneeling god in the most solemn tone.

Zeus directed his petrifying glare towards Hermes. The God of Mischief suddenly felt no stronger than an infant. He knew he was powerless before the rage of Zeus. His immortal soul was devoured by fear for with the slightest wrong move, that immortality might end soon. And most likely, not in the most pleasant way either.

Zeus opened his scowling mouth. The echo of his angry voice thundered in the massive room.

"WHERE. IS. APOLLO?"

Noah's room was lying awake in her dark room. She'd been tossing and turning in her bed, but sleep wouldn't come to her. She dropped one bare foot on the cold marble floor. That girl shivered a bit from the sudden chill, but she adapted at once. Noah strode towards the large window across the room. She gently drew the heavy curtain, exposing a small bit of the glass that separated her from the outside world. The storm hadn't calmed down. Noah could hear the thunder rumbling as if it wouldn't stop till the earth cracked in two.

Noah's mind flew to the conversation she had this morning; something about her duty and her _power_.

"You don't belong here, but it seems you still have to stay a little longer," Edgar Stevenson, or rather, Apollo, had said then.

"But I don't want to stay here! I want to leave this horrid place RIGHT NOW!" Noah insisted on impulse.

"If I take you to the Underworld right now, you'll end up as Cerberus's chew toy, Noah," replied the sun god, "You haven't fully recovered your godly power. Before then, you won't survive down there."

"Then tell me how I can survive!"

Noah wished she could smack that grin off of the Sun God's face. How could he smile when she was there, desperately bagging him to help her getting out of her miserable life? How could he smile when someone else is suffering in front of his eyes? It's not even sympathic or sad. It's more like a smile saying 'Yeah! I got it!"

Is he truly a god? The thought that e could have been a mentally-ill young man who made up the story about gods and stuff to get Noah to play with him crossed Noah's mind. That would make sense. The only thing that doesn't is the fact that Noah didn't die after stabbing herself on the heart, and that she could see ghosts.

This guy is definitely unbelievable and suspicious. But Noah wanted to believe. She would believe in everything that would end her misery.

Suddenly, Apollo chuckled, "You're starting to doubt me, aren't you?"

It's as if he could read Noah's mind.

"You even think that I, the magnificent god of the sun, was a madman? That's funny! It really is! Haha… ha…"

Noah snapped right at that time, "STOP IT! Stop laughing! I don't want to hear anything… anything like laughter… I… no…"

Apollo playfully shook his head, "My, my, you're so serious, just like my sister!" he went on, disregarding Noah's complain, "Buur when it comes to sense of humor, your father had it worst! He always puts on this annoying frown on his face, no matter what. Well, you'll get to meet him soon enough anyway!"

He said 'your father'. He had said that Noah's father was Hades, the Lord of the Dead in Greek mythology… She couldn't help but question it, but…

"Hey, don't get distracted! Let me continue!" Apollo suddenly said.

You're the one who was distracted, Noah thought.

"To totally leave this human world of yours, first you have to regain your full power."

"My… full power?"

"Yeah, your full power as a goddess and the force of nature. It's been sealed by Lord Hades, and beside him, I am the only one who knows how to break it. Well, I should know something common like that, I'm the sun god after all!"

"H-how?"

"How, you ask?" Apollo still had that smile on his pretty face. The wind was gently playing with his golden hair as he stretched his hand out, "I'll be your guide. All you need to do is fulfil two simple condition."

"What is it?"

"First, you have to believe in me, no matter what happens. Trust is the most important thing and you should know that I, as the god of prophecy, know what's best."

"And the other is…"

"Simple! With your power, it would be piece of cake. You shall help me however you can to accomplish my wish. Now, take my hand and you shall get the eternal bliss you long for…"

Noah hesitated… Would it be that easy? Believe him, and help him, and she'd get what she had longed for… the eternal bliss without anyone's interference… Yes. It's the thing she wanted the most.

So she raised her hand and took his, swearing on the Styx that their dreams would come true.


	6. Chapter 6

V.

Noah had a dream.

She rarely dreamed. Heck, she barely could sleep properly most of the time. Usually, it's just that state of semi-consciousness where you were still aware of your surrounding, but your mind was blank and you couldn't think of anything. Once in a while, she would had this rare yet comforting deep sleep where she could finally tasted peace, but dreams? How long had it been since the last time she had a dream? A month? Two?

…A year?

The past dreams she had ever had… They were all no more than a vague image, sometimes a part of her memory. She could barely recall what she saw once she woke up, and she could always convince herself it was not something important, not something she would want to remember. However… The dream she had last night was somehow different… It was so vivid, as if it was reality instead of just a random vision shoved into her restless mind. She could see it clearly, as well as she could see the carving on the canopy of her bed right now. And there was something else… Something she could not define with words…

Something that made her feel as if something would go terribly wrong if she forgot what she had seen in that dream.

It was like the fear of running up late to school one morning and finding that you'd forgotten your own locker combination—and you'd kept a paper due on that day inside, and the teacher happened to be the worst killer teacher you'd ever dealt with.

Well, Noah doubted if she'd ever forget that dream. It's not like she had many things to remember. That's just how her life was; plain boring, with no one's birthday she needed to remember, no appointment or meeting she needed to attend, nothing but her own sorry meaningless routines.

At the beginning, Noah saw nothing but darkness. She felt nothing… Heard nothing… It was as if she was just a layer of invisible mist, floating through the air. And she could not think of anything, just… feeling, knowing what was happening around her, but not thinking about them… As if the darkness had also crept into her brain, filling each inch of space within…

Probably that's how it would feel like being inside a black hole.

After the darkness, came the voices; one male and one female, talking in hushed volume.

"I have to go now," whispered the male voice. It sounded quite comforting, yet low and solemn, and behind its softness, there was the slightest hint of strictness and authority.

It was followed by the high-pitched, pleading voice that sounded so much like a spoiled young lady from a rich family, "Are you sure it's okay, leaving her among the mortals?"

"She IS a mortal, my dear," the man's voice remarked, "—And she has our grace, which will never leave her unprotected. It will be fine."

"But—"

"Unless she realizes her true nature, the façade will become the truth."

"…I think—"

"We have to do this. I have to do this," urged the man's voice, "There is no other way."

"…As you wish, my Lord."

As the last echo of the shrill, doubtful female voice faded away, the darkness started to disperse, giving way for a weak glow—like that of the street light—to sneak into Noah's eyes, if she had eyes at all. Soon she found herself on the roadside somewhere in a moonless night. It was quite but for the occasional passing vehicles and the cooing of the owls from above. She could see flashes of light shooting from the sky somewhere faraway, followed by roaring thunder, then it started to rain heavily. She didn't feel wet or cold, though, since it seemed like she was really formless in that weird dream.

The view was curiously familiar… She knew she had been there before. No, she knew she had been there many times before…

Then she noticed a big white house with many big windows on the other side of the street, and a bench beside a rusty lamp post… She recognized them. And she recognized the thrift shop just around the corner and the massive weeping willow a few steps away from the shop... Things she had known by heart.

It was the street she always unwillingly walked on every single morning, on the way to that wretched hell they called school. That willow tree near the thrift shop was what she used to compare herself to—alone and weeping and unable to do anything about it. And the bench beside the lamp post was the spot where she'd spent most of her restless nights when the moon was up and bright.

And the big white house was her own house, where her body should be lying by then.

Then she saw a tall figure clad in black walking across the street from her side, but he didn't really walk. His feet were an inch or two above the ground, and his movement was so smooth as if he was riding the wind. He was holding a mysterious maroon-coloured bundle in both arms, cradling it and sheltering it from the rain with his own body as if it were something very precious. The fine strands of his black hair were perfectly straight and shiny albeit totally drenched by heaven's tears.

That figure stopped on the front steps of Noah's house, stayed still for a moment, laid down the maroon bundle before the door, then disappeared into thin air.

Then she woke up with a million question marks replacing the darkness in her head.

Before that figure left in such peculiar way, Noah heard that black figure muttering something. She could not recall what he had said, which was what she had been thinking of on the way by the same street she had seen in her dream. But she remembered his voice all right—a gentle, comforting voice which you just knew by listening that it belonged to someone who wouldn't take refusal for an answer; the man's voice she had heard in the infinite void.

"Hey," an unexpected call took Noah's attention when she got into the school building that morning. She ignored it and walked on, being sure that it wasn't addressed to her. Who would bother greeting her, the suicidal slut slash wrist-scratcher? Noah strived to restrain herself from bursting into tears again as all the names those jerks had called her with came rushing in her own mind. It worked, and it was easier than usual to keep her emotion in control. Noah didn't know why, but despite the weird dreams she had last night, she was feeling unexpectedly 'good'. She hadn't felt cheerful or joyous or anything grand. Just slightly—real slightly—better. She didn't really know how to put it, but she was less… touchy? She was quite sure there was people laughing or pointing at her as she walked past the school gate, but she could shrug it off without much hassle.

Did it have something to do with the conversation she had with Edgar Stevenson the day before? Could he have done some weird godly thing in her favour?

Noah shook the thought away. It was just a bit pleasant swing of mood.

She wondered what she should say to Edgar Stevenson if she met him… Moreover, she wondered what he wanted her to do. Their talk the day before was so… weird? She was in such a shaken state that she said yes to everything he told her. Had he meant it all?

And there was that weird vision… and what the man in black had left in front of her house and what he had said before vanishing into nothingness… Could it be nothing more than a dream? But why did it feel so important to her?

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

It was that voice again, the one she had heard calling out just a moment ago. She turned around—just checking, it's not like she would dare to dream someone would ever call her like that.

However, Noah ended up taking a few steps back, startled. It seemed like she had forgotten something else—the fun fact that now she talked to ghosts and that there was a certain spirit dressed like a punk rocker that was the last thing she wanted to see. Not wanting to ruin her day by being seen talking to thin air, Noah looked away and sighed.

"What's with that face? That's rude, young lady," the ghost obviously tried to mimic some kind of old disapproving aristocratic aunties, but he really sounded like a tranny instead. Noah almost betrayed herself by letting loose a giggle or two, but then it was really funny.

"Oi, you can still hear me or your psychic power went boom or something?" he went on, still stalking Noah as she walked down the hallway towards homeroom, babbling random stuff and telling cheesy jokes, anything to catch Noah's attention while she tried her best to ignore him. Why shouldn't she? That ghost and her were practically strangers anyway, plus they hadn't been on good terms the last—and the first—time they met. She had no obligation to respond to him whatsoever.

,,,Still, Noah felt a slight pang of guilt out of nowhere.

Anyway, there was still time before the first period. Noah had always come to school early—less people to encounter, the better. Then she'd slip in somewhere, some spots where she could stay unseen until the day's session start. It was good thing on a day like this, when it seemed all sunny at one second and blasted into full rain on the next. If she had been a few minute late, Noah would have been caught in the downpour somewhere on the way to school.

Probably she should just go and find Edgar. Well, probably he'd just jabber on even more puzzles, but there was a chance knowing something about her dream…

"What's with you living people?"

And there's this rocker-turned-ghost to deal with either. Noah somehow wished that everything was truly a hallucination. But she couldn't… She had chosen. It might be a stupid choice, but still…

She had chosen to believe.

"We once had a strike so we could get letter combination, you know," that freak of a ghost talked on as Noah opened her locker so she could keep her bag. She knew better than leaving it on the desk for anyone to take and hide, she learned it the rough way. A piece of paper fell out as she swung the door.

"emHome calling, I must comply.

Don't be brash, help on your way.

-Your Sun/em"

What the—

"Huh? What is it?" that freak of a ghost loomed of Noah's shoulder, trying to get a better look on the note she's holding. Annoyed, Noah sneaked a death glare from the corner of her eye and tucked the note into her jeans pocket. She'd deal with it later, after getting rid of this crazy spirit that had been getting on her nerves. She slammed the locker door and picked up her pace all the way to the girls room where she was sure nobody could see her talking to an invisible soul.

"What do you want? Get it over with already!" Noah practically yelled as she flung the door open. It wasn't the crazy ghost who reacted—instead, it was two girls from the senior year who showed up in front of Noah.

"Oooh… Look who we've got here!" remarked one of them—a brunette who must have applied too much lip gloss that it's gross—in exaggerated tone. Noah recognized both her and her blond companion, part of the cheerleaders as well as her 'frequent' torturer. Crap.

"Miss wrist-scratcher here is being insolent, isn't she, hon? Just who does she think she is?" Blondie giggled in her own way that sounded more like a shriek piercing through Noah's head.

"Hey, slut, why don't you just sink in somewhere and cut your wrist already? You're such an eyesore," the lipgloss girl sneered as she roughly shoved Noah's shoulder with her perfectly manicured fingers. Noah flinched, it seemed like her luck hadn't improved in any way. She had endured such attitude since the moment she set foot on school ground today, but it's not like it hadn't hurt at all.

Noah bit her lower lip and try to slip around the two girls and get into the restroom, but they were blocking the door. Where the heck had that freaking ghost run off to anyway? Probably he's gone for good, probably Noah should just turn around and left…

Too late, one of the girls grabbed her one arm before she could take another step. Geez, what did they want this time?

"Say, why don't we give her a lesson?" it was the lipgloss girl again, followed by her friend's cheer of agreement. Her nails were digging into Noah's pale skin, then she roughly dragged her further into the bathroom, closer to one of the stalls. Noah struggled, but you'd be surprised at how tough a seemingly delicate cheerleader can be, after all they're the ones who could do people pyramid.

"That's a wonderful idea, hon," said Blondie, giggling, "What shall we do? Wash her dirty face in the flusher?"

that was when the strangest thing happened. Lipgloss girl went further into the stall, still dragging Noah along the way, but the way she moved was awkward and her mumbling inaudible, as if she was being held by the neck and pushed against her will by 'invisible hands'. Then she yanked off of Noah's hand and screamed as she sunk her own face into the toilet. By then, the flusher had started on its own.

Blondie stood out of the stall and scream with horror as she saw the wrist-scratcher flushing her friend's face in the toilet with her evil psychic power—at least that's how the incident was carried on later. On the other hand, Noah only stood there dumbfounded, staring at the empty bathroom wall, or so they thought, because Noah could clearly see a certain ghost in rock 'n roll theme laughing with disbelief as he kept poor lipgloss girl's head down by the hair.

That would surely help her tone all the lipgloss down.

"…How could you—" that's all Noah managed to cough out at him. She was too taken aback to talk properly. It hadn't been long, but Noah had seen enough ghosts trying to figure out that they could touch not a single thing that belong to the living. However, what was happening right now said otherwise.

"This is amazing!" the rocker ghost was obviously enjoying it, "It's not like flushing people's head is my hobby, but not passing through everything you touch makes it perfect!"

He lifted lipgloss's head up—she was panting and all wet and her weak yells sounded coarse. Laughing, the ghost practically threw her and her equally petrified friend out of the girl's room. Now that Noah get to see him more clearly, he somehow seemed a bit… less transparent. It didn't make him any more visible to normal people, but Noah's new vision perceived that he had become more solid and somehow… glimmering?

"This is totally cool! I gotta tell the others, they're going to be wild about it!" said the ghost with full spirit.

Noah went towards the door, closed it behind her and leaned back, making sure nobody could walk in on their conversation. Not really knowing where to start, Noah asked, "Uh… what is going on here?"

Facing her, the ghost shrugged, but his grin still went from one ear to another, "How should I know? It could be the world spinning backwards, or it could be you. Whatever, I don't really care why. Too troublesome."

"Me? What do you mean it could be me?"

"Well, before you get here today, I definitely couldn't touch a single thing. But now, look!" the ghost drifted a meter before the looking glass on the wall. With mischief glinting in his eyes, he pulled his fist back before charging it forward, leaving long cracks centered on where he had hit it, followed by the sound of broken glass. The ghost acted as if it was nothing and played with the smaller glinting pieces that fell off of the cracks, "See?"

Noah frowned, her arm stretched out, pointing at the broken mirror, "Couldn't you be a little less violent? Those guys could frame me for that!"

"Oops. Old habits die hard, even when you're dead. I used to be quite active, you know," he said. It wasn't as if he sounded anything like remorse, however, "Anyway, I saw you and that shiny boy talking yesterday, you know."

"You—"

"Apparently you're not just some random psychic like in those movies, aren't you? The talk of gods and stuff, that's kind of cool. Say, what god are you? God of the ghosts?"

"Look, if you want to say anything, say it already! If all you want to do is fooling around, you better start bugging someone else! Now that you can smack anything you want, you're not stuck with me anymore, right?" Noah snapped, frustrated. She didn't know why, but this crazed spirit kept getting on her nerves, somehow even worse than those airheads who had been torturing her intentionally. This ghost was somehow harder to endure… It must have been because she couldn't run away from him. Yes, it must be so.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help!" the ghost complained, "I just mentioned it because, you see, I just thought if your pops owns hell or whatever it is, and if you're supposed to have some kind of buried superpower, you might only stick to using the small skill you already have to unlock the rest and go with the plot, like they do in RPGs! So now you can only talk to ghosts, but if you keep it up, you might even—"

"Wait," cut Noah, "How do you know all this?"

"I told you, I heard you and your shiny friend talk about it yesterday," he replied, "Well, even after you went off, he mentioned everything about the whole thing in detail, as if knowing I'm there… Well, he didn't look as if he can see me, but he just seemed like he knew…"

Shiny boy… Edgar? Well, Edgar mentioned something about help in his note… Could he mean this?

"Well, I thought it might help you getting whatever it is you want to get. It had been nice talking to you, well, not nice emnice/em, but it's kind of refreshing to talk to someone alive instead of those old guys who only thought about what they left behind. It's been years, you know," the ghost jabbered on, "—And I know some other guys who might want to see you or some sort. But then if you think I'm in the way…"

Geez… Now Noah truly felt like a jerk.

"Uh… It's not like you're in the way or, uh… You know I'm not the kind who talks much, plus you see… I might be able to see you and talk to you but… those people out there? They'd think I'm complete nuts for real. The teachers might even end up calling my guardian this time!"

The rocker-like ghost chuckled at that, "You really worry a lot, don't you?"

Noah made a face, "What's your name anyway?"

"Name, huh? It's Nate Simpsons of the Death Lullaby! You better remember that!"

"Huh? Death Lullaby? What the hell is that anyway?"

The lightning spark missed Apollo only by an inch. Had he not jerked at the right time, it would hurt for days, even with his regenerating ability. The Lord's anger was so devastating that it even clouded his godly rays. The sparks hadn't been directed to him—not candidly anyway, but if he hadn't been one of those with higher power, he wouldn't have survived even the slightest scratch the bolt might cause. Still, Apollo remained in his position, kneeling on one knee and head bowed down as low as possible—anything but meeting Zeus's angry eyes. No, it wasn't fear that made him stay, even under such horrendous intimidation; Apollo was cooking up his own plans.

"Are you trying to defy me, Apollo?" Zeus's voice was the most formal, as well as coarse and bathed in fury.

"…No, Father. Never had such bedevilled thought ever crossed my mind."

"Then what do you intend by wakening emher/em?" his emphasis on 'her' was all loathing.

"I have a vision, Father. Believe me. Her awakening could only bring good for your cause," Apollo might seemed solemn and submissive, but he was as confident and convincing as ever.

"How so? emShe/em had been made one of the mortals, duelling among humans with no knowledge of the superior deities. Now that you have unlocked the seal, she would soon evolve into one of us—one with the power of the gods! It would bring forth nothing but chaos! And what if she ever tried to interfere, to—"

As the Lord of the Gods was losing his control bit by bit, the sky below him rumbled. Apollo took the chance to cut and fill him in with his 'plan', "Yes, Father. Chaos. With the chaos she was about to bring forth, I have foreseen the rise and fall of many other powers… Including those you had always waited to get rid off. She was just a girl, Father. She had no clue to what she owned, thus she was prone to doubt. Every single action she took with that doubt would eventually be her loss and your—the Master of Heaven and Earth—victory."

At that, Zeus turned around and lifted Apollo's head with one finger, forcing him to look at his threatening eyes, "You'd better not try to deceive me, son. You had always been my favourite, as well as the most dangerous of all. And if I find you ever try to betray me… I will not hesitate to send you emthere/em."

"Worry not, Father," Apollo could still manage an earnest-looking smile, "My soul is entirely yours."

emBut not my thought./em


End file.
